


water your kiss with whiskey

by oddishly



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 17:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9668663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddishly/pseuds/oddishly
Summary: Brad thinks about it, afterwards.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [partypaprika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/partypaprika/gifts).



> Happy Valentine's, partypaprika! <3

Brad lets himself think about it afterwards and not before. He steps into the helicopter, shuts his eyes and opens them again in another part of this dusty side of the world, gets on a plane and wakes up to yellow streetlights bundled into German cityscapes, and then the door is closing behind him in his hotel room and he’s free to picture Nate Fick showing up on the other side of it. He leans against the wall and jerks off quick and silent, his lieutenant in his head, on his bed, the space between them generous and promising.

 

18 hours later, absent his lieutenant but thoroughly reacquainted with his right hand and more than sufficiently capable of picturing the company, Brad walks at 5am to a breakfast of champions: no peanut butter, still no jalepeno, but if there’s one thing the Germans do well it’s sausage and breakfast meat. He piles his plate high with everything the United States government did not see fit to provide in Iraq and settles in a secluded corner with black coffee and a pleasant view of the drizzle and an array of barges crawling down the canal alongside the hotel.

He’s considering seconds when the subject of the last eight weeks’ restraint appears on the other side of the table.

“Do you mind?” The lieutenant indicates the seat across from Brad with his plateful of Bratwurst, clutching two styrofoam cups of coffee in his other hand. “I understand if you’re sick of the sight of me.”

“Go ahead,” says Brad, then, “though I’ll be sorely disappointed if you bring any other officers with you. No offence, sir.”

“Solid copy,” says the LT, smiling, and pulls out the chair. Brad heads for the buffet bar and another plate of sausage and returns to sit with him, easy in the comfortable, damp grey.

 

"So," says the lieutenant once he's finished his third cup of coffee. "Plans?"

The rain outside is falling in a gentle splatter against the window that Brad wouldn't usually enjoy. He sits lower in his chair, legs outstretched below the table. "Determined on day two in Iraq, sir. Stand in the shower until they cut off my water. Kick Ray out of his room and repeat. Then Hasser, and you get the picture."

The lieutenant smiles and Brad takes note. He's expecting to spend a lot of time with that smile today. 

Perhaps his face betrays him, because Fick colors, barely perceptible in the morning light. Brad's spent a notable amount of time over the course of this invasion considering Nate Fick's face, though, and the normal rules don't apply. 

Fick's blush grows. Brad draws a quick, sharp breath. He wants it all.

"I was planning to run until I couldn't anymore," says Fick abruptly. "Or until it stopped raining, whichever came first."

"Good idea, sir."

"I'm sure I'm wasting my breath, but Nate will be fine."

Brad smiles a little. "Got it in one. Sir."

The lieutenant looks resigned.

The rain has grown into a steady lash against the window, autumn leaves sinking into puddles below. Brad sits back, staring with a grimace through the glass. "Better you than me."

"Your southern California's showing," Fick replies. The smile returns to his face and he stands to leave. "I was born for this."

Brad shudders. "Good running, sir," he says, and takes another bite of his breakfast.

"Thanks. And Brad--" he turns, catching Brad staring. "Stay out of my shower."

Brad chokes. The lieutenant grins as he walks away.


End file.
